Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Mozambique and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing The Martian to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Drive Like Jehu. All the underground hits.
All Silicon Teens tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 8 Eyed Spy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Spoonie Gee,
Franke,
The Monochrome Set,
The Stooges,
Tears for Fears,
Blancmange,
the Slits,
Barbara Tucker,
Circle Jerks,
The Busters,
The Dave Clark Five,
Oneida,
Letta Mbulu,
The J.B.'s,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Nils Olav,
Kerri Chandler,
Chrome,
Essential Logic,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Crispian St. Peters,
Echospace,
Icehouse,
Black Bananas,
June of 44,
Heaven 17,
OOIOO,
Terrestrial Tones,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Flash Fearless,
Prince Buster,
The Misunderstood,
Lindisfarne,
Masters at Work,
The Velvet Underground,
Bronski Beat,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Victims,
Ludus,
Crime,
Tropical Tobacco,
Kevin Saunderson,
Gong,
Hoover,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Leaves,
Sonic Youth,
The Real Kids,
Bootsy Collins,
Brick,
DJ Style,
X-101,
B.T. Express,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Guru Guru,
Andrew Hill,
Maurizio,
Au Pairs,
Theoretical Girls,
Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls, Mary Jane Girls.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.